


Percussive Maintenance

by kethni



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 11:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11080452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: ‘I miss the days when you could fix something by kicking it.’‘Percussive maintenance?‘What’s that mean?’Kent shrugging. ‘When you resolve an issue by giving your equipment a bang.’He knew it was a mistake as he said the words.





	Percussive Maintenance

It was late when Kent heard swearing from the Oval Office. This wasn’t unusual. Angry swearing was part of the background of Selina’s presidency. Late at night angry swearing was a touch less common.

Kent was minded to ignore it. It had been a long day. Pretending to agree with Selina’s increasingly erratic decisions was exhausting.

‘Kent, you in your office? Can you come help me?’ she called. Her voice was small and defeated.

That was extremely uncommon. Unique, in fact.

She was curled up on the couch. It was not the “curled up watching a movie” position. It was the other one. The one where the knees were hugged tightly and the forehead was pressed against the knees.

Oh dear.

Selina lifted her head. She waved a hand at the floor. ‘It’s broken or something. I don’t know what’s wrong with the thing,’ she said.

Her tablet was on the floor. Kent ducked to pick it up.

‘I fucking hate technology,’ she said quietly. ‘Why does progress always mean things getting worse?’

‘If things worked perfectly all the time we wouldn’t need to buy the latest shiny new version.’

‘Yeah, I believe that those fuckers do it on purpose,’ she said quietly.

‘It’s called planned obsolescence,’ Kent said. ‘If you make a car that lasts a lifetime you will quickly sell to everyone and go out of business.’ He handed her the tablet.

‘So why do I feel like the one who’s obsolete?’ Selina asked.

Kent made a meaningless gesture that he hoped implied sympathy.

‘Come on, sit down,’ Selina said, putting it aside.

‘Ma’am, I have work and... work.’

Selina looked up at him. ‘Please? It’s been a shitty day and... I don’t want to be on my own right now.’

Kent forced himself to nod. He didn’t do well with other people’s emotional distress.

He sat at the other end of the couch. Being alone in a room with a female colleague was always complicated. He was aware that he frequently missed or misunderstood social signals. He had no desire to be _that_ colleague, the one who mistook common courtesy for flirtation.

Selina was looking at him.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘You look like I’m gonna jump on you.’

‘I certainly don’t think that,’ he said.

‘Did Hughes have days like this?’

‘Certainly. He was more prone to drinking. During the hiker hostage crisis, we had to cancel a public appearance as he was barely able to stand.’

Selina’s eyes widened. ‘Why did nobody tell me? I was the vice president!’

‘If you were incapacitated in a similar manner would you like us to inform Doyle?’

She snorted. ‘Yeah, right.’ She put her head in her hands. ‘Did he tell you himself that he was quitting?’

‘Yes.’ Kent shrugged. ‘After FLOTUS attempted self-harm it was clear he would have to resign, although it took him a little while to settle the issue in his own mind.’

‘This is supposed to be the pinnacle of my career,’ she said.

‘Nobody said was going to be easy,’ Kent said. ‘Or fun.’

‘Fun? I was the vice president, I can’t remember the last time I had _fun_.’ She pushed her hair back. ‘I can’t remember the last time I read a book or watched a TV show that wasn’t the news or political commentary.’

Kent licked his lips. ‘Your job is very demanding,’ he said. ‘The time constraints are pressing.’

‘Don’t you get tired of that?’ Selina asked. ‘All the platitudes. Doesn’t it get exhausting kissing ass, doing everything to pretend you agree when you don’t?’

Kent was quiet for several seconds. ‘Yes, it does.’

She was watching him too intently. ‘Then why do it?’

‘It’s my job,’ he said.

‘It’s your job to smother me in bullshit?’

Kent took a breath. ‘It’s my job to advise. I do that, but I must attempt to couch my advice in acceptable terms. If you refuse my advice, then it’s my job to make your choice work as well as possible. You don’t engage my services to second-guess you or harangue you.’

Selina pulled a face. ‘Every other fucker does. The press. SNL. The meme people.’

‘What purpose would it serve if I did the same? You need your team to be on your side. To support you.’

‘Even if it’s not what you believe?

‘Certainly.’

Selina shook her head. ‘Wow.’

‘I should go.’

‘Why? You getting pissed?’ Selina asked. ‘You got something to say?’

He shook his head. ‘No, Ma’am.’

Selina glared. ‘Don’t fucking “ma’am,” me. Jesus! Come on, Kent, for once be honest with me.’

Kent didn’t lose his temper very often. He rarely lost control of himself to that extent. When he grew angry it was most often because he chose to allow himself to express it.

‘If people lie to you, “kiss your ass,” then it’s because you make honesty impossible,’ he said. ‘No politician enjoys criticism, and I have never worked for one who appreciated the unvarnished truth. You, however, are uniquely unwilling to take responsibility for your own actions.’

The colour drained from her face. ‘Get out.’

‘This is exactly what I mean. You demand honesty and then punish it.’ He got up and walked to the door.

‘Stop.’

Kent turned around. Selina waved her hand at the drinks cabinet.

‘You wanna drink?’ she said. ‘I wanna scotch. Get me one, wouldya?’

Kent’s temper rarely lasted beyond the initial flare up. He was relieved to nod. ‘Ice?’ he asked.

‘No. Splash of soda.’

Kent poured the drinks and gave her one. Then he sat down again.

‘Why do you work for me if I’m such a shitty person?’ Her voice was calm and quiet.

Kent gulped his scotch. ‘I didn’t say that.’

She was watching him. ‘Come on, Kent. This is your one shot to tell me what you think of me.’

Kent shrugged. ‘Ma’am, you are operating from a faulty assumption. I have no desire to have a confrontation with you.’

‘I know that. You’re a little pussy. I’m not asking because I want a fight.’

‘Insulting me isn’t really conducive to my opening up.’

Selina chewed her knuckle. Kent thought he understood the problem. She was agitated and upset but was trying to be “fair.” The aggression had to go somewhere.

‘You’re a guy,’ she said. ‘That’s how guys talk. I have to talk to you assholes on your own level.’

Kent shook his head. ‘But it’s not my level. I don’t talk that way.’

‘No. I guess not in front of me, anyway.’ Selina played with a pillow. ‘Everyone called me a cunt, right. Everyone includes you. Right?’

Kent sighed. ‘I was under a great deal of personal pressure but I have no excuse.’

Selina shook her head. ‘You all fucking hate me. Everyone fucking hates me. You sit there telling me that you’re on my side when you hate me.’

Kent sighed and put down his glass. ‘I don’t hate you.’

Selina gave him a look of disbelief. ‘Don’t.’

‘You’re my employer,’ Kent said. ‘There are always going to be occasional tensions. Particularly in a workplace as highly pressured as the West Wing.’

‘Especially when the boss refuses to take responsibility for her actions,’ she said bitterly.

‘Don’t forget demanding to know what her employees genuinely think of her and then repeatedly complaining about the answer.’

Selina managed a small smile. She waggled her glass at him ‘I need a top-up. So do you.’

Kent obliged.

‘I saw Catherine’s documentary,’ Selina said as he returned with the glasses.

‘Yes?’ He couldn’t remember saying anything regrettable.

‘You ride in a fucking motorcycle gang.’

Kent held up his finger. ‘I ride in a fucking motorcycle _club_.’

Selina grinned. ‘You said “fucking.”’

‘Yes, I did. Apologies.’

Selina shook her head. ‘Don’t apologise. It’s kinda hot.’

Kent squinted at her. ‘I don’t believe I will ever understand your sense of humour.’

‘Because I’ve got one?’

‘Because it is frequently immature and often verges on the puerile.’

Selina snorted. ‘I wasn’t kidding. I was… I... what was my point?’

‘You saw Catherine’s documentary,’ Kent prompted.

‘Right. Right. You can’t be riding around on a fucking motorcycle with a bunch of Latino gang dudes and be the kind of guy who won’t say “cock” or whatever. Gets pissy about being teased. All that shit.’

Kent sipped his whiskey. ‘Why can’t I?’

Selina waved her hands. ‘Because it doesn’t make sense!’

‘People are complex creatures,’ Kent said. ‘Frequently arbitrary and contradictory.’

Selina lay back against the arm of the chair. ‘This is you admitting being weird and random?’

‘I admit only to being complex.’

Selina lifted her legs, and rested them on Kent’s lap. Kent gripped his glass.

‘I get that,’ she said. ‘Is it fun pretending to be a biker?’

‘I don’t pretend,’ Kent protested. ‘But it’s fun. Riding is enjoyable and being part of the club is socially rewarding.’

‘They’re your buddies,’ she suggested.

‘Yes.’

She ran her toes along his thigh. ‘Never found making friends easy.’

Kent swallowed. ‘I think I should go.’

Selina put her empty glass down. ‘Aww, come on. Don’t be like that. We’re having a nice chat, aren’t we?

‘Possibly,’ Kent said. ‘It’s late and I suspect that we’ve both had a little too much to drink.’

Selina sat up, moved across, and straddled Kent.

‘Oh… Oh shit,’ he said.

Selina prodded him in the chest. ‘That’s not very nice.’

‘Ma’am, you’re drunk.’

‘Maybe, but in the morning, I’ll be sober and you’ll still be not nice,’ she said.

Kent looked at her blankly.

‘That isn’t how that quote goes, huh?’ Selina asked.

‘No.’

‘Fuck.’ She picked up her tablet. ‘I miss the days when you could fix something by kicking it.’

‘Percussive maintenance?

‘What’s that mean?’

Kent shrugging. ‘When you resolve an issue by giving your equipment a bang.’

He knew it was a mistake as he said the words.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘That so?’

‘That’s the idea.’

Selina nodded. ‘Well, _my_ equipment is crying out for a bang.’ She shifted position, rubbing up against him. ‘Feels like you gotta an issue there yourself.’

‘I’m only human,’ Kent said quietly.

‘Gee, I hope not. I was really hoping for some pretty sustained _maintenance_.’

She was so close. He could smell her perfume. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her breath.

‘You’re drunk,’ he said.

‘I’m not drunk, I’m _relaxed_ ,’ she countered. ‘I could drink you under the table.’ She unbuckled his belt. ‘We doing this?’

Kent pulled her dress up over her head.

‘You’re going to regret this tomorrow,’ he said.

‘You’re not?’

Kent threw aside her dress. ‘It’s a step up from kissing your ass.’

Selina moved his hands to her breasts. ‘Maybe next time.’

Kent slid down her bra and cupped her breasts. She ran her fingers through his hair. Kent pressed his lips against her neck.

Selina unbuttoned his flies. ‘Don’t go at me like a hammer. What I need is a screw.’

Kent groaned. ‘Puns should at least make sense.’

‘Spoilsport.’

She gripped his shoulders as she lowered herself down onto him.

Kent rested his hands on her waist, supporting her.

She closed her eyes and her fingers clutched his shoulders.

Kent bit his lip. She was hurting him, her small fingers gripping so tightly that the nails were digging in. He moved his right hand, rubbing her thigh, and slowly circled in.

‘Yeah, that’s... Little to the left?’ she murmured.

‘There?’

She growled softly in the back of her throat.

***

Selina stood and stretched as Kent stumbled to his feet.

‘That definitely knocked my springs back into line.’ She slapped Kent’s ass. ‘Thanks.’

‘Uh, you're welcome.’

        

The End

 


End file.
